Save One Candle for Me
by dtill359
Summary: With the war against Deun the Usurper underway, Desslok's rebels have a lot to accomplish before the rightful king can retake the throne, but fighting isn't the only important part of life in the rebel camp. "The Sands of Time Are Sinking" AU.


**Save One Candle for Me**

It was the first winter in our war against the usurper, but that didn't mean we had no cause for celebration.

The week of Firgunor was clear and calm. Snow fell all around the camp, and I couldn't remember a happier time for my mother and me. Everywhere I looked rebels and dragon riders shared food and stories, and one rider sat by the watch-fire singing while her dragon warbled along with her.

The first evening of the holiday, Mother and I sat with three riders for the evening meal.

"I'm leaving in the morning to go see my mother and everyone back home," said Tirzah, the youngest dragon rider. "Raphael doesn't like to fly in the snow, but I talk him into it every year."

The big blue drake snorted from outside the eating area, and a warm puff floated over our table as the dragon's breath hit us.

Glass-paned lanterns mounted on tall poles lit our gathering place, and one of the nearby rebel barracks glowed with a warm, friendly light. Laughter filtered out its narrow door all the way to our table.

A handful of the younger children chased each other around an empty table until one jumped atop it. He had a blanket tied around his neck, and it draped over his thin shoulders in a tattered cape. He wielded a sturdy switch and with head and weapon held high declared, "I'm Leader Desslok of Gamilon, and I take back the throne from you, evil villain!" He pointed the stick at one boy trying to climb onto the table with him.

"Why do you always get to be Leader?" the second boy protested.

"Because I got up here before you," insisted the first. "And I'm tallest."

I shook my head at them and finished my baked rabbit and potatoes. It was some of the best food I'd ever had, but when I got up to get seconds, my friend Melda rushed over.

"Constance! You wanna come decorate mine and dad's living space with me?" she said. Her blue eyes sparkled a little more today than they usually did, and her light brown hair bounced around her happy face. It made her look like a wood pixie. Her light blue skin made my creamy tone look pale, but I never really noticed that often. Even though she was a year younger than me, at eleven, she acted a lot older sometimes.

"Let me ask." I put my plate in the wash tub and hurried back to the table. "Can I go help Melda for a while?"

"Sure, sweetie," my mother replied. "Just be back by the time everyone gathers for the first lighting."

"Yay!" I ran back to Melda, and we spent the rest of the evening hanging beautiful decorations and laughing at silly jokes.

I made it back just in time to snag an unlit candle from Tirzah, who was walking around the gathering handing them out. I found my mother near the middle of the crowd. She smiled at our friend Garren, and he smiled back then lit her wick from his.

I ducked beside her and held up my candle. "Made it!" I grinned as she hugged me and then passed the flame. The light traveled around the whole assembly until every candle flame danced.

Wolf Frakken, one of the councilmen, stood in the gathering's center, but I was too short to see him very well, so I slipped closer to the front. "Let's take a moment to think about one of the people who means the most to us." He bowed his head. His candle flame flickered as a brief gust blew in from the north, but the light didn't go out.

Councilor Frakken's wild hair always seemed askew, and his thick mustache and goatee reminded me of a bear with furry ears. But he knew better than most how to survive when it came to a fight.

As he instructed, I bowed my head and waited.

"Speak," said the councilman.

Everyone around me said the name of someone they loved or cared about. As I spoke Melda's name I smiled. She was the first real friend I'd made since mother and I came to this planet.

The councilman planted his candle in the snow and stepped back as the rest of the camp crowded in and placed their candles.

I arranged mine and stepped back.

The three unsteady circles glimmered in the fresh snow like rings of sparkling stars bound to earth. This was my first Firgunor, but I knew I liked it.

"The circles represent our lives and how they affect each other," Councilor Frakken said as he stepped into the center of one lit circle. "Tonight, we celebrate our friends, our families, the ones we love. May this week be a time of hope and joy."

The gathering dispersed, and most people broke up into groups. A few left to sit at the watch-fire with their instruments and sing. I didn't know any of the songs, but my favorite tune was light and crisp, like falling snow, and I hummed along when I next heard it.

As I walked with my mother back to our living space, I spotted a dash of auburn hair. There was only one other red-head in camp besides me. "I'm going to go say goodnight to Melda before I go to bed, okay?" I said to my mother.

"Make it quick. If you aren't in bed in fifteen minutes, I'm coming to get you."

"Okay." I took off between two of the dragon riders' tents and waited until my mother was out of sight. Then I backtracked to the spot I'd seen my red-headed fellow.

I stayed in the tent shadows as our Leader—all of sixteen—stood alone in the moonlight, outside the camp's festive glow. He looked up at the clear sky, and his eyes shone like a calm lake's surface. He didn't move, didn't speak. Desslok was a solitary one—and strange sometimes—but tonight, I wondered what he was thinking as he stood out under the stars after the first lighting.

A few minutes later, he walked back into the central commons and headed off to his living space. I rushed home, my fifteen minutes nearly spent.

* * *

The next five days passed with games, songs, dances, and good food. On the last day of Firgunor, I walked around camp and looked at everyone's magnificent decorations. Someone had dressed up one of the fir trees with painted pieces of bark and colorful dried herbs. As I passed it, one of the riders shooed his dragon away from it as she tried to snag an herb knot.

In each of the three barracks, beautiful mobiles made from shed dragon scales and metal bits shimmered in the lantern light. The men and women inside cheered as they toasted their friendships.

I passed the dragon pen, and Zair, Melda's father's dragon sidled up to me. His purple hide glowed in the afternoon sun, and I scratched his scaly chin.

A loud purr rumbled up through his nostrils and into my face accompanied by a waft of warmth—a welcome respite from the chill air. "Good boy," I said and patted his head. He rubbed his face on my hand in a plea for another scratch. "Okay, but I have to go after that."

I planted a kiss on Zair's snout and he bobbed his head happily as I left the pen and headed for the dragon rider tents. As I passed the third one, a crowd gathered at its entrance. I rounded the tent and dropped to peek under a loose section of canvas.

Inside was a magnificent mural. Braced against the back of the tent stood a large metal plate, and on it hundreds of magnetized, shed dragon scales hung. Each one was positioned perfectly in a dazzling display. A beautiful gold dragon flew through the starry sky, her hatchling on her back. His brilliant hide glowed orange, and he spread his short wings, just like his mother, but he didn't dare fly.

The image stayed with me as I continued through the riders' quarter.

The watch-fire burned at the end of the path. As I passed the last rider's tent, the same flash of orange I saw after the first lighting appeared. I stopped beside Desslok as he sat on a nearby boulder. The fading light glinted off a tiny silver disk in his hand, but as soon as he saw me, he tucked it away.

"Have you seen my mother?" I said.

"She's just past the watch-fire, talking with Frakken," Desslok replied, and then got up and left, head bowed.

I watched him go as he headed back into camp.

* * *

That night, I lit my last Firgunor candle from my mother's wick and the little flame danced in the cold night. Everyone around me bowed in silence.

"Speak," said Councilor Frakken.

I said my mother's name and caught her smiling as she heard me.

Together, we placed our candles, but there was that flash of orange again, near the far side of the crowd. Desslok left the gathering before everyone finished placing their candles.

I hugged my mother. "I'll be back by bedtime," I said, and hurried off before she could protest.

I followed the Leader past the watch-fire and into the trees. He didn't go far from camp and stopped at the edge of a nearby hill. Tall trees surrounded its crest on three sides, but from its ridge, I could see into the next valley and far into the distance. Circles of light dotted the landscape as people everywhere celebrated the last night of Firgunor.

Desslok walked to the top of the rise and knelt in the snow. He planted an unlit candle at the highest spot and formed the surrounding snow with careful hands. He stayed there for over a minute, and I thought he'd never rise. Then he spoke.

"Mother…" he said. "It's the last one." He pulled out the silver disk I'd seen earlier and when he tapped it, a life-sized image of a woman appeared. She knelt in the snow beside the Leader. Her hair was the same auburn as Desslok's, and he and she shared the same blue skin and piercing green eyes.

"Our world is beautiful tonight," he said to the hologram. "I wish… you could see it."

After that he sat in the snow next to the image for the better part of an hour, silent.

My fingers and toes threatened to freeze, and I started to go back to camp when Desslok turned off the hologram and got up. He left the unlit candle to watch the sparkling valley.

I sneaked after him but stopped when I reached our circles of candles. Mine burned nearby, and I wriggled it out of the melting snow. A spare lantern sat beside a light pole. I snagged it and placed my little light inside to protect it from the wind.

Back to the knoll I went, by the light of my dwindling candle.

When I reached the hill, I stopped and listened.

No one followed me.

I knelt before the lonely candle and opened my lantern. From it I took my light. As the wicks met, I said, "I didn't know you, but I think you'd be proud of him for building this place. He's a great Leader. He takes good care of us—just like I'm sure you took good care of him."

The little candle in the snow burned strong, and for just a moment, the air didn't feel as cold, and the stars above shone just a little brighter.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Set between books one and two of "The Right of Kings"

The piece was written for the WA Holiday Challenge.


End file.
